Introspections
by Xanoka
Summary: Various characters contemplate romance.
1. Blue

Following a few paces behind with the wheelchair, Blue watched the pair of them speculatively. Of course there had been rumours ever since the Remembrance Day ball – that was inevitable. For Snow, a legendary ice queen, to abruptly change the habit of centuries by attending the ball with an escort was bound to cause interested comment. That her choice had fallen on Bigby Wolf, of all people, had naturally raised eye brows, and in some quarters had led to feverish speculation.

It was just that they were so _different_. So unsuited. Snow, true to her name, was all icy froideur – aloof and pure as unblemished snow. Even as an invalid she was dressed to impress, wearing an expensive, immaculate suit. Bigby, on the other hand, was as dishevelled as ever. Hair rumpled, nicotine stained fingers gripping a half-finished cigarette (as usual), and unshaven – though Blue could hardly blame him for that. He supposed that being a wolf Bigby couldn't help his hairiness. He'd overheard Snow complaining once about his unfamiliarity with the sharp end of a razor, only to be informed that it was a weakness of his glamour that however often he shaved the hair would always grow back within minutes. And he couldn't help the lack of cologne either. With a nose as sensitive as his it would be a bit much to expect him to douse himself in a chemical scent. What he definitely _could _help, though, was his clothes. They probably hadn't been washed, let alone pressed in days. Rumpled, probably sweat stained, Blue doubted it was Bigby's attire that had drawn Snow to him.

If she _was_ interested in him. While he enjoyed the gossip about his boss as much as anyone, Blue had his doubts. That they had gone to the dance together didn't necessarily mean anything. Bigby had been investigating Rose's supposed murder, and it would be just like them to use the ball as another opportunity to discuss the crime. Workaholics both of them. And come to think of it, Bigby had used the ball for his big moment – he had hardly been thinking of romance. And a less romantic couple at that dance would have been hard to find. Snow had seemed fairly repelled by her partner – who had arrived late, hardly a love sick swain hanging on her arm – and since then had been consistently offended by any reference to their 'romantic' relationship. Blue wondered how Bigby felt about that.

Perhaps he didn't care. They had worked together for centuries and Blue had never noticed him show any particular interest in Snow, or anyone else for that matter. Hardly a ladies man, unlike Snow's ex-husband. Maybe that was the attraction. Bigby was so opposite to Charming in practically every way imaginable.

And that was the other thing. Their stories were so different. Not to mention their species. Bigby might have lived as a human for centuries, but he was still a wolf. And not just any wolf either. The Big Bad. It was in his _name_. Despite the amnesty and his apparent moral reformation he clearly wasn't ashamed of his past. (Though why should he be? It wasn't like he was really human.) He had been, and perhaps would always be the villain of the story. A monster to frighten children – and according to Ride he had been genuinely terrifying, whatever the Mundy's take on the story had sometimes made him out to be. So much so that even now, when as far as Blue knew he hadn't even taken wolf form for years, he was banned from the Farm and a source of uneasy fear for most of the Fable community.

Snow, on the other hand, was a story book princess. Innocent – though since her divorce she'd grown cynical – and as the deputy mayor of the community had continued to occupy her old role as benevolent ruler since leaving the Homelands. She was the heroine of the story, both in the old world and this one, the driving force behind the establishment of their new, safe community. Owing in some measure, Blue had to admit, to Bigby. Just as Snow was the real power behind King Cole's throne, Bigby was Snow's muscle, her enforcer. Initially it had seemed an odd choice – Blue remembered being surprised by Snow's insistence, overriding even Bigby's objections. But it had worked out surprisingly well. No one wanted to mess with a cop who, rumour had it, could turn into a giant wolf and eat you.

But despite some evidence of personal distaste on Snow's part, they had a good working relationship, one that had only grown closer since they had been forced to work closely together to solve Rose's 'murder'. Yet there had never been any hints of romance. That was understandable on Snow's part, but Bigby's? Blue could understand the attraction– _any_ man would – but it was odd that after going so long without showing any romantic interest he should suddenly develop a crush. It was generally assumed that Bigby wasn't interested in human women. He'd never made a move on one anyway. Unless he was shy. The idea nearly made Blue laugh out loud.

No, on the whole Blue had listened to the stories flying around, but never really believed them. But over the last few months he had begun to change his mind. Bigby's attention to Snow during her convalescence had been nothing short of devoted. They had all taken their turns visiting her, of course. And everyone had been delighted by her recovery. But as her strength returned, the number and length of those visits had begun to tail off. As her Personal Assistant, and closest work colleague Blue had continued to visit assiduously – he owed it to her – and he hadn't been alone. It seemed that every time he went to that ward, there was Bigby Wolf. When did he do _his _work? Apparently never. It was quite sweet really, though he would never say so in front of Bigby – he could just imagine how he would react. It hadn't gone unnoticed by the gossips of Fabletown either. Snow would probably not be gratified.

As they walked down the street Blue could see people watching with interest – Bigby and Snow walking together. And bickering like an old married couple. Or rather _she _was, complaining about his 'babying' of her. She was right. It hadn't escaped Blue's notice that despite his seeming carelessness, Bigby was never more than a foot away from her elbow, presumably ready to catch her if she fell.

Perhaps they did suit each other after all. Snow was proud, and Blue hadn't spent decades working with her not to know how prickly she could be. On the other hand, it took a lot to ruffle Bigby Wolf. He could handle her. And as lofty as she could be, Snow would probably value someone as loyal and dependable as Bigby had proved himself to be.

All in all, it would be very interesting to watch how it all developed.


	2. Bigby

I can hear Snow on the phone in her office. I can _always _hear her, orsmell her. I try hard not to notice but it's impossible. Even while reading my reports a remote corner of my brain's always focused on her, analysing everything. She had been talking to Charming. She was going to meet him to discuss his decision to sell his titles at the Remembrance Ball. She would probably seem perfectly calm and collected to anyone else, but I know better. I can smell the stress, or rather the _distress _rolling off her. She's always like that after an encounter with her ex. The bastard. He'd ruined her life. I'd never known her before the divorce, I only met her as a refugee fleeing the Homelands. But I sometimes try to imagine her as she must have been once, under the cynicism and general iciness. I usually fail.

She deserves so much better.

She's talking to Blue, saying she's going out for coffee. I can hear her picking up her bag and the click of the door closing. I can hear her walking down the hall. Soon she'll be in the street and with all the other smells and noises she'll be harder to keep track of, even for me.

I sigh and return to the report. I leaf through various sheets of paper until I find the photo of Rose Red's apartment. The crime scene. If there's even been a crime. I just know that Jack's involved somehow and that's usually a good indication of a con. Looking at the picture confirms what I remember, the 'trashed' apartment was obviously faked. But the blood _was _Rose's... Poor Snow. It was hard on her – Red was all the family she had left. I'd heard her crying in her office, very quietly so no one could hear her. Not that that stopped me from knowing, of course. I could even smell the salt in her tears.

But what am I doing? I'm staring at the wall and the photo's slipped out of my fingers. I sigh again irritably. Thank God _I _don't have a PA who could just waltz in at any time and catch me napping. And thank God for my fearsome reputation. No one just drops in for a chat with _me_. The other Fables are all slightly scared of me. Mostly it's just bubbling away beneath the surface but I can always sense it. I can always _smell _it. Alienating, as you can imagine.

Except Snow. She's never seemed afraid of me – at least, not since we left the Homelands. Total faith in her amnesty. Or maybe it's just a case of familiarity breeds contempt. She seems scornful enough most of the times I see her.

For some reason my thoughts always returns to her these days, like they're on tracks. I've been in human form too long. She's always smelled good to me, but as the decades slipped by it's grown on me that she _looks _good too in a way I just wasn't aware of before. And while I couldn't ignore her before, it was more like background noise. Now it's an obsession. I should go, live somewhere remote, but I'm not sure I can leave her.


End file.
